Walk Away
by macisgate
Summary: Preseason 1. Sam, Jack, and Janet meet for the first time at the Academy hospital after Jack was held prisoner in Iraq. Can Janet get him back on his feet while helping her friend through a tough time? Or can Sam and Jack help each other?


Walk Away

Rated: PG

Season: Pre-season 1

Spoilers: Not really, except that it is based on Jack being held prisoner in Iraq as mentioned in "A Matter of Time."

Summary: Pre-season 1. Sam, Jack, and Janet meet for the first time at the Academy hospital after Jack was held prisoner in Iraq. Can Janet get him back on his feet while helping her friend through a tough time? Angst, humor, a little bit of everything. Enjoy!

A/N: Hey everyone! This story has been long in my mind but hard to know how to write. I even offered the idea up as a challenge, but now I'm going to give it a try. It's my attempt to explain the closeness between Jack and Janet during the first season as well as give a little history to some other characters. Not intentionally AU, but I'm sure there will be some spots that don't quite fit with the show. So we'll just roll with it. Thanks so much for reading!

Best wishes and lots of love!

macisgate

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Lieutenant Doctor Janet Frasier stood before the mirror on her office door. Her first day at the Academy hospital. She had been waiting a long time for this.

Her perfectly-pressed lab coat had never looked better. Her shoes were gleaming. Even her hair looked great today.

A knock from the other side of the door broke into her appraisal. She opened the door.

Dr. Reynolds, sir, how are you?" Janet greeted the chief medical officer. "Please," she motioned for him to enter.

"Actually, I've come to take you with me to meet an incoming patient. He'll be arriving from Peterson by ambulance."

"Sir, did something happen at Peterson?" Janet asked as she followed Dr. Reynolds out of the room and down the hall. She could think of more than a few acquaintances and friends at the airfield.

"No. He arrived from Germany this morning. He was in Germany for a week and a half before they decided to move him here."

"What happened to him?" Janet frowned.

"It's classified." Reynolds glanced around before continuing. "He was held in an Iraqi prison for three months. His injuries are the result of torture - physical and mental, and malnourishment. He hasn't spoken to anyone yet, though the doctors in Germany believe that will come with time and therapy."

"It's incredible he survived that long."

Dr. Reynolds nodded. "Escaped by himself too. It wasn't an _official_ mission you understand."

"Black ops?" Janet asked.

Reynolds nodded. "I know psychological trauma isn't exactly your area of expertise, but we're short on staff with your level of security clearance. Until we can bring in more, we really need you stationed there."

"I understand."

They stopped at the entrance to the ambulance doors just as the ambulance pulled up. Janet and Dr. Reynolds walked out to meet their new patient.

One of the ambulance attendants walked up to them. "Sir, we have Colonel Jack O'Neill here as instructed. Where would you like us to move him?"

"Room 512 please. We'll walk with you. We received his file this morning. I assume there are no changes."

"No, sir."

Janet grabbed hold of the side of the stretcher. She looked down at the Colonel. She was surprised to find him looking right at her. She smiled gently. He looked away.

"Don't worry, Colonel," she laid a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to take good care of you."

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Jack groaned inwardly as he was wheeled into the recreation room.

"Here we are, Colonel," Janet parked him at the center of the room where some couches and chairs were grouped together. "I'll let you stay here for a while. I'll be back for you in forty-five minutes," she moved in front of him to put on the chair brakes. She looked up and smiled. "Try not to cause too much trouble, okay?"

Jack did his best not to smile and succeeded. But he was wearing thin. She was contagious. He had to give her credit. He'd been here for a month and a half. She wasn't giving up. But neither was he. Not yet anyway.

He looked at the motley crew scattered throughout the room. Not everyone in this ward was a full-fledged psych case. They also put people here who were involved with classified stuff. That way, if they talked too much, the other patients wouldn't think much of it. And few people would believe them if they said anything anyway.

It was the same scene every day. Two older men were playing chess in the corner. Well, sort of. They weren't actually moving any of the pieces. They were just sitting there looking at them. Then there was Hank. He was building something out of popsicle sticks and a bottle of glue. It was probably supposed to be a house. It just didn't look like one. Past him was the professor as Jack liked to think of him. His formulas dominated the room's chalk board. Then there were a couple patients sitting in wheel chairs like him not saying anything. One lady was knitting a really, _really _long scarf.

Same old, same old... no wait. She was new. She wasn't a patient, that was for sure.

Visiting Jonas, the other guy in a wheelchair. She was talking to him about her work, he supposed. Some science mumbo-jumbo. _Don't bother_, he told her silently. _Hansen won't tell you anything. And if he's anything like me, he never will._ Sara had tried to get him to talk. As much as he loved her, he just couldn't open his mouth. He was glad she hadn't brought Charlie. He would have talked to him. About baseball and school and camping. But Sara didn't want to hear about those things. She wanted to know what had happened to him, what it had been like in the prison. And he would never talk about that. Never.

He let his mind wander until Janet came for him. Still smiling. She released the brakes on the wheelchair and moved him out of the rec room.

"Well, I'm glad to see you weren't roughhousing too bad in there," she teased.

As they moved back to his room, the blonde woman who had visited Jonas walked past them.

"Hey, Sam," Janet said.

The woman turned around. "Hey, Janet."

"How was your visit?"

"He still won't talk to me," she shrugged. "I just wish I knew what to say to him. If he would just say something, anything."

"Just give him time. He'll come around."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I know. Look, I'm heading back to Washington for a few weeks. If he asks for me..."

"I'll make sure he knows," Janet assured her.

"Thanks." She turned and went to the elevators. Jack watched her go. _Poor kid._

"All right, Colonel. Here we are." Janet positioned the chair by the bed. Jack leaned heavily on her, his broken leg still in a cast. Despite her small size, she held him firmly. She made sure he was comfortable, then reached in her pocket and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I smuggled you some pudding. Hope you like chocolate. Nourishment and physical therapy in one." Janet opened the pudding pack, licked the lid, and threw it in the trash. "That was my share," she explained. "Here," she spooned up a generous helping in one hand and then reached out for his hand.

"I know you're still very weak, but we've got to start somewhere. Today it's a pudding pack. By the end of the week, you might just work up to a steak from O'Malley's. If we're lucky," she nodded to his comatose roommate in the next bed, "the smell of sirloin might just be enough to revive the sleeping sergeant."

Siler had been out like a light since Jack had been there. Something about a wrench... Try as he might, Jack couldn't fight the flicker of a smile that came to his lips. Janet saw it, and her own smile grew even bigger.

She helped him keep his grip on the spoon as he lifted it towards his mouth and took a bite. His hand shook hard, but he did it.

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Seven weeks passed. Sergeant Siler _had_ woken up, though he was still pretty groggy. Jack had gotten his steak as promised. He'd even gotten the cast off his leg. Now he was beginning physical therapy. As luck would have it, he didn't get Lisa, the sweet, pretty red-haired therapist. Oh no. He got Ivan - the large Arnold Schwartzenegger impersonator from hell.

Janet came to escort him to the gym. Siler gave them a slight wave goodbye. Janet smiled at Jack's grimace. In the last few weeks, he'd begun to show more emotions. It was a good sign.

"Oh, come on, Colonel. Ivan is the best physical therapist we've got. You should consider yourself lucky. Here he comes now."

"Colonel!" Every word with this man was an exclamation.Jack walked with a cane. Ivan moved to his other side as Janet moved over. "I will not let you off so easy zis time, Colonel," he grinned. "We will work on your arms today. Nothing impresses the ladies like good biceps, eh?!" Ivan nudged Jack with his elbow while winking in Janet's direction.

_Oh for cryin' out loud._

Jack gave Janet one last pleading look. She just shrugged and left, still smiling.

As Ivan directed him through some hand and arm exercises, Jack looked around the room. One guy was practicing his walking by holding on to two rails. Jonas was across the room lifting weights.

Jack wasn't the only one starting to come out of his shell. At least he was coming out slowly and cautiously. Jonas was coming out with a vengeance. He was angry. Many times over the last few weeks the staff had trays, bed pans, and pillows thrown at them. Well, the lucky ones had pillows thrown at them. They even moved him to a single room to protect his emotionally fragile roommate, the professor. A part of Jack could identify with Hansen. There was plenty to be angry about. He wished he could just let loose like that, but the nurses and doctors weren't the ones who deserved that anger, and he would only be releasing a monster if he did.

The blonde woman was back today - Sam. She was going through his exercises with him. Jack hoped someone had warned her. The guy was a walking time bomb. A time bomb that kept resetting.

Jack turned his attention back to his own exercises. Each day was getting a little bit easier. Between all the food they kept trying to shove down his throat and the exercise, he was slowly but surely getting his strength and weight back. Even Sara looked encouraged when she'd last seen him. Janet had given her a glowing report. She was going to bring Charlie with her next time. It made him want to work harder. He had something to work for. He wanted to see his son, and he didn't want his son to see a zombie. Soon he would talk. That would be the turning point. Once he opened his mouth, there would be no going back. He could feel it coming closer and closer each day. He was thankful to Janet for not pushing him. He knew she was being pressured. His superiors wanted information. But she wasn't letting them near him, nor was she letting that pressure affect her treatment of him. Somehow she knew he wasn't going to hold out forever. She was right.

Jack was broken from his line of thought as a crash sounded from across the room.

_No._

Jonas was pounding at a framed painting with a weight. Sam pulled at him.

"Jonas, stop!" Sam demanded.

Jonas turned toward her and lifted the weight.

"Hey!" Jack shouted, his heart pounded in his ears. Panic rushed through him making him nauseous.

Jonas paused and looked over at him. Sam looked at him too. Jonas was startled long enough for Ivan to reach him and give him an injection. He slid to the floor. A couple orderlies and a doctor rushed in.

Janet came in and moved Sam to a corner out of their way. Sam started to follow as they took Jonas from the room. "I should-"

"No, wait," Janet stopped her. "Just stay here for a while. He won't be waking up anytime soon. How about some coffee?"

Sam looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded. "That would be nice."

Janet poured two cups from the pot in the gym's office.

"Not exactly Starbucks, but it's caffeinated."

They moved to sit in a couple chairs.

"Maybe I was pushing him too hard. I should have-"

"Hey, you didn't do anything wrong. He just- some people deal with their emotions in different ways. I know he's angry right now, but he'll move past that. It just takes time."

"If that's true, then you're an even bigger miracle worker than I thought. Jonas has always had an anger problem," she explained.

"Has he ever gotten _that_ angry?" she motioned toward the broken glass an orderly was sweeping up.

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Sam-"

Jack tuned out the rest of their conversation. He had a feeling where it was going, and Janet was a much better counselor than he was any day. And it wasn't any of his business. Jack looked around awkwardly for a moment. His heart was back to its normal pace. He could chalk up the perspiration to hard work. He decided to continue with his exercises alone. Ivan, the one-man-muscle, was needed elsewhere. Far be it from Jack to stand in his way. Maybe this would mean Lisa would be his therapist. Jack smiled to himself.

Jack looked up a while later to see that Janet and Sam had left the room. He was done his work out. He used his cane to stand up and slowly made his way back to his room. He was almost there when Sam walked up to him.

"Colonel O'Neill? Look, I just wanted to thank you for stepping in there when you did."

Jack looked around for Janet. She was no where to be seen.

Sam caught his searching. "Janet tells me you don't talk much. That's okay. I just wanted to say thanks. Jonas wasn't always like this. Too much black ops I guess. Well anyway, I have to go." She turned to leave.

"You're welcome," Jack managed to say.

Sam turned around and smiled, then walked towards Jonas' room.

Jack walked into his room. Now that he was talking again, he had some things to get off his chest.

"So Siler, what was the deal with the wrench?"

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Janet rubbed the back of her neck as she entered the break room. It was proving to be a long morning. All their patients were being more difficult that day. Even Colonel O'Neill was being a bear.

"Terri," Janet sat beside her friend. "Please tell me it's a full moon. There's got to be some reason to explain why everyone's on edge today. Thelma's knitting like crazy. Hank smashed his popsicle house. Then someone brushed against the professor's board and erased some of his equations. He could barely stop crying."

"I suppose he's the only one here who could fix it too."

"Actually, Sam's here. She's helping him. She even says he's on to something." Janet shrugged. "Some theoretical astrophysics thing I guess. Something to do with wormholes."

"You've got to hand it to her. She's certainly loyal to Jonas. Not many women would have stayed with him through something like this. And I get the impression he wasn't a peach before this either."

"Honestly, I think if he hadn't been put here, she would have called it off."

"You think she's afraid to leave him in case it puts him over the edge?" Terri asked.

"Maybe. Don't get me wrong. Jonas really does need some friends, but a romantic partner isn't the best candidate for this position. Emotions can really get put through the wringer."

They sat in silence for a time, then Terri brought up something else.

"Siler was discharged today. Maybe you should move the professor in with Colonel O'Neill. Might be good company for him, and I don't think he should be left alone for too long."

"The professor?" Janet asked.

"No, the Colonel," Terri corrected.

"Why do you say that? So far, he seems to be recovering quite nicely. He's been talking a lot more."

"About Iraq?" Terri asked.

"No, but just about everything else. Especially since Sara brought Charlie to see him."

"I think you'd better see something," Terri got up. Janet followed her.

They went to the art therapy room. Terri went to a shelf and pulled down a canvas draped in a cloth. She set it on an easel.

"Yesterday, I had art therapy with the Colonel. I told him to paint what he was feeling inside. At first, he started painting what looked like a cabin and a lake. I got called away from the room. He seemed fine when I left. When I came back, the painting of the cabin was torn to pieces and this is what he'd painted in its place. Might explain his bad mood today."

Terri lifted off the cloth. Janet gasped.

"Wow."

"Yeah. He looked startled when I walked in. Like he hadn't even realized what he'd painted, and, when he did realize, he didn't want me to see it."

"I think I know why."

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Janet walked down the hallway to the Colonel's room. She met him just outside the door.

"Colonel, just the person I wanted to see. I need to talk to you."

Jack took in the painting tucked under her arm. It was covered, but he knew what it was.

"You know, that would normally be great, but Ivan just worked the stuffing out of me. I think I need to rest. Catch you later?"

He wasn't getting away that easy. "No, Colonel. Come on."

"Fine." Jack followed her reluctantly into the room. They both sat down in chairs. Jack took the pillow that was on his chair and set it on his lap. Janet uncovered the painting and faced it toward him.

"Tell me about this."

"What ever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?" Jack asked without looking at her or the painting.

"We're all working with you. We share information."

"Well, then I think Ivan's been leaving you out of the loop because I swear-"

"Colonel. Just tell me about your painting. What does it mean?"

"Doc, no offense, but it's all there." He hugged the pillow to himself. "I wrote all over it."

"Yes," Janet agreed. "I see people in chains, shackled to a wall, covered in blood and in anguish. The words _hate, pain, anger, despair, torture, killing,_ and _hopelessness_ are written all over the bottom, and I want to know if this is what you really feel inside."

Jack stayed still.

"Colonel, it's okay if you feel this way. In fact, it's perfectly normal. You've got to let those feelings out. You-" Janet stopped when she noticed tremors running through him. "Colonel?"

"It's not okay," he managed through clenched jaws.

"What-"

"I don't want to feel this way." He looked like he was going to be sick.

"It won't last forever."

Jack looked up at her sharply. "Yes, it will. It will grow and grow and get darker and darker each day because I will _never_ forget what they did to me or what I saw or what I heard or what they did to the others." His voice rose with each word until he was shouting. "I will _never_ understand how people can be that _cruel_ and _merciless_. And I will certainly _never_ forgive my team for leaving me behind to rot in that _hell hole_. It will never be okay. _I_ will never be okay."

"Colonel, it won't get worse if you just let it out. Let us help you."

"If I told you all the things I'm really feeling, you would never let me out of here. I would never get to see my family again."

"Is that what you really think?" Janet asked softly. She had suspected as much. "Colonel, that's not true at all. We know that what you went through was horrific. No one expects you to just put on a happy face and walk around like everything's okay. I promise you, no matter what you tell us, we will work through it."

"I just want to go home," he said quietly pulling the pillow even tighter to him.

"You will. I promise."

"When Jonas smashed the painting in the gym, I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest, and when it looked like he was going to hit Sam, I was back in that prison all over again. I tried to get them to leave us all alone. I tried to protect the others, put on a brave face, keep everyone's spirits up, but it was no use. They hurt them anyway. Some of them didn't come back. There was not one shred of hope in that place. They were complete zombies.

"When I escaped, I tried to get them to come with me. We easily outnumbered the guards. If we rose up together, we might have had a chance. But they wouldn't listen. They just wouldn't-"

"You did everything you could, Colonel. Some people just don't want to be saved."

"They were afraid."

"And fear is a very powerful weapon. They gave in to that. You didn't. You survived. That's what matters."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I wish-"

"Wish what? That you hadn't survived? Colonel, you may have done a lot more for those people than you give yourself credit for. You escaped. With a broken leg, I might add. They saw that, and now they know it can be done. You may not have given them freedom, but you gave them hope, and that is far more powerful. That's what their captors would hate the most. Don't think you didn't make a difference."

"I just hope it was enough."

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_Four weeks later_

Sam walked down the fifth floor hallway. She squared her shoulders as she neared Jonas' room. She needn't have bothered. A nurse ahead of her was just leaving the room carrying a tray of overturned dishes and food, obviously having just been picked up from the floor. She shook her head at Sam.

"I wouldn't go in there just yet, Captain. He's in a rare mood today. Give him an hour or so to cool down."

"Ah sure," Sam shrugged. "I'll just take a walk around."

Sam looked undecided for a moment, then turned back the way she'd come. She bit her lip in frustration. She wasn't helping Jonas. If anything, she seemed to make matters worse. He always seemed to be in his rarest moods when she came to see him. Why wouldn't he just get better? Why didn't he _want_ to get better?

She reached the end of the hallway. She decided to slip inside the art room. A quiet place to wait.

But the room was occupied.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was in here. I'll leave."

"No, wait, Sam." Terri stood up from her desk. "I just got a call. I need to run these files downstairs. Would you mind staying here with Colonel O'Neill while I'm gone? It's just for a minute."

"No, of course not. I'd be glad to," she smiled over at the Colonel. He smiled and gave her a slight wave from his place at the easel.

"Great. I'll be back soon."

Sam felt a little awkward.

"Captain, isn't it?" Jack broke the silence.

Sam let out the breath she'd been holding. "Yeah. Air force. I'm stationed at the Pentagon right now."

"Figures. That's where they keep all the eggheads."

"Excuse me, sir?"

Jack smiled. "Just kidding. Well, not that you _aren't_ an egghead. I've seen you with the professor."

Sam grinned. "I wish I could get the professor to come with me to Washington. He's got some great theories."

"Yeah."

"So... what are you painting?"

"See for yourself."

She moved to stand beside him. He was sitting on a bench. She didn't say anything for a long time. Jack was beginning to feel self-conscious about letting her see his work. Eventually, she sat down beside him, eyes transfixed to the canvas. Jack cleared his throat.

"It's beautiful," she finally breathed. It truly was stunning. The same figures he had captured in his first painting were in this one as well. Except they weren't in pain or covered in blood or hopeless. They were standing on a lush green hill overlooking the prison with its doors wide open. The sun shined all around them. They still wore their ragged clothes, but they were smiling. Their eyes were filled with-

"Hope," Sam read the word written across the bottom of the canvas.

"Yeah," he looked at her. "Something no one should ever be without."

She could feel her lip trembling, so she bit it.

"Not all prisons are made with bricks and mortar," he continued. "We don't always need walls around us to make us feel trapped. It's the prison that you can't see that's the worst prison of all. Your own mind and heart can hold you tighter than chains ever could."

Jack wouldn't look away from her, and Sam couldn't stop the tears that escaped from her eyes.

"So if it's the worst prison of all, how do you get away?" she asked.

Jack smiled. "That's the easy part," he pointed to the open doors of the prison on the canvas. "You just walk away."

"Just-?" she asked.

"Walk away," he repeated.

"What's the hard part?"

"_Accepting_ that you need to walk away."

Sam nodded. They sat for a while not saying anything. Sam continued to stare at the painting.

"Sorry I took so long," Terri apologized as she entered the room. "Oh," she stopped short as she took in their faces. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything? I can come back."

"No." Sam stood up and wiped her damp cheeks. "I ah, I'm going to go now."

"To see Jonas?" Terri asked.

"No," she looked at the Colonel who still had his eyes on her. "Back to Washington actually."

"Don't forget to take this with you," Jack lifted the painting from the easel. "Just make sure you let it dry. It is a one-of-a-kind, Jack O'Neill special," he smiled at her.

Sam accepted the painting and smiled back at him. She held his eyes for a moment. "Thank you, sir." Then she left the room and walked away.


End file.
